Completely worn out.
I don’t feel like I have much more in me.
I got to my brother’s around 9 this morning and my dad wasn’t doing so well. I gave him his medicine, checked some stuff and went to the office. A while later I checked on him again and he wasn’t doing any better. The doctor’s office called as I was getting ready to go over for the third time and I talked with the nurse for a while then went to the store to get something they wanted him to try eating (a meal replacement drink). But by the time I got back they had called him again and decided they wanted him to see the surgeon.
So, we left the house at 1:30 to go to the surgeon’s office.
I got home at 9:55PM.
After throwing up in the bathroom before seeing the surgeon and throwing up in the surgeon’s office the doctor decided we should head over to the ER to have him get some fluids. Lucky me, I got to take him through the doctor’s secret underground tunnel shortcut across the street and through the hospital.
Then the fun began.
They couldn’t get an IV in because he was so dehydrated. They tried doing a midline with an ultrasound and hit an artery sending blood shooting all over the room. A patient in the room two doors down died while I was standing in the hall (never mind that I think he was actually dead when they wheeled him in the doors right past me). They finally took him to radiology to get a PIC line put in and started the IV.
They admitted him, I got him to his room and came home.
So much for a quick run to the doctors office (not that I thought it would be a quick run).
Also so much for the work I really needed to get accomplished.
While he was getting the PIC line put in I ran out to get something to eat. About the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had. It literally took almost all I had not to vomit on the table it was so disgusting. So, I had about 10 fries for dinner. Considering I didn’t eat much else today it’s not sitting too well on my stomach.
I’m spent. I’m emotionally drained. I don’t have much left in me right now.
This would really, normally, be a post I’d put on my personal blog but my family reads it. I just need to have a place to say today was HARD. My family has enough to say about what I should have done today, or what I should have said to the doctors, or when I should have taken him in, or whatever the hell else they feel like telling me I SHOULD HAVE done. And, quite frankly all I can say to that is WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU? Oh yeah, working (not that I didn’t need to be doing that and not that anyone is going to say here let me help since your income is going to be hugely affected by the fact that I was at the hospital while you were too busy). Or, oh, I don’t know shopping (yeah, I have some of that I want/need to do too). Oh, wait then we have someone who was cleaning today (nevermind that my house could use a vaccuum or a dusting or what about that pile of laundry that’s about to bury me alive).
So, yeah, tomorrow I’ll get an earful because I didn’t do or say this or that. Nevermind that I WAS THERE I’m the one who LISTENED to the doctors and I’m the one who WITNESSED first hand what was going on and what was being discussed and what the concerns were. No, my family who was doing their thing have their own damn opinions on what they doctors/nurses/I should have done different.
So, yeah, I’m tired, I’m frustrated, I’m irritated and I feel like I’m going to vomit.
But, I sat by my dad’s bedside. When he cried because no one else was there I held his hand and told him I was there and I’d be there until we had this figured out. When he cried because another IV attempt failed I held his hand and told him it would all be OK and that as tough as it was this was the best thing for him.
Then I stood and watched a man die. A man I don’t know and will never know but it affected me just the same. But, I sucked it up, dried the tears of my daddy, held his hand and tried to get the vision of those socks on the feet of a dead man out of my head because I was standing there alone and didn’t have anyone I could turn to to tell ME it was going to be OK.
Then my dad told his nurse I was his guardian angel and the nurse looked at me and said I was a pretty awesome daughter and took us up to his room where he’s sleeping now (I hope).
03 December 2009, 2:37 AM
Aww, baby, it’s going to be okay. It is. You poor thing. I have walked in your shoes, somehow realizing I am the primary caretaker of a sick parent, about coming unglued at all the questions and criticisms of my brothers and sisters in law. Take a breath and know your daddy appreciates. Sometimes you don’t even get that.
I hope you are able to get some rest and look at things fresh today. I love you!
Sue´s last blog ..the mission continues
03 December 2009, 5:40 AM
*hugs* it is so frustrating when people tell you what you should do but don’t give any practical help (i’m dealing with that on a much, much smaller scale) makes you want to rip your hair out. are you bold enough to call them out on it? (I’m not)
and in 5 years you will have forgotten about that laundry that’s waiting for you…and you’ll have these precious memories and kind words knowing how much yesterday meant to your father.
06 December 2009, 9:52 PM
Just wanted you to know that I cried a little when I read your last post. I have been there too with a sick Dad. I remember mine crying and having to make decisions that I shouldn’t have had to. I feel for you. I also work for surgeons now (cardiothoracic) so I see this every day. You are your Dad’s guardian angel and he loves you – don’t worry about the other people, you are doing the right thing for you and your Dad.
Melissa